Seems like life is a palindrome
Cry when you die, cry when you're born
In between it's all about the ups and downs
Add them all together, they'll cancel each other out
— Glen Phillips, from "Duck and Cover"

Random Email Updates from Sarabeth

Name:
E-mail:

Articles

Here are some articles I've written (section not complete yet), some old and some new. The topics include unschooling, birthing, parenting, traveling, elimination communication, and political issues.

...or, What I Wish Someone Had Told Me in April 2010
by Sarabeth Matilsky

This is obviously biased by my family's experiences, but I'm hopeful that it will help you as you craft your own, unique health-promoting GAPS diet plan. This article will be updated as needed--please send me suggestions!)

In the summer before sixth grade, Beth Alison Maloney's middle son suddenly began to exhibit severe obsessive-compulsive behaviors. She documents his ensuing multi-year battle with mental illness in her book, “Saving Sammy: Curing the boy who caught OCD.”

If you're anything like me, you get really skeptical when someone presents a new miracle cure. This is the sort of necessary skepticism that prevents one from being snake oiled. Especially when you're trying to sort through medical advice, you need a fully-functioning baloney detector.

Chronic Disease And Why I Care So Much About Gut Flora: An Opinion Piece for an Industrial Age, by Sarabeth

(To be clear: I am presenting a _summary_ of my recent health and nutrition research. I am not providing sufficient evidence/data to prove to anyone that my opinions are valid. If you're curious about or skeptical of the basis for my conclusions, please read the books and websites I recommend. Then, let me know what _you_ decide.)

By the time he's done being two years old, he's not going to fit under my jacket in the baby carrier anymore. I hope at that point Jem will also stop waking up well before the sun, but I'm not putting any money on it. And meanwhile, we have our best talks in the morning, when I've dragged myself out of bed and out the door, and he's snuggled into my chest. He likes when the cars go by ("More come cars!"), when he sees a school bus (a "butt"), and he points every time he sees a mailbox ("my-bock").

We heard the train just after our car began the uphill ascent, away from the train tracks. Ben struggled to hold back real tears, while I struggled not to feel guilty for not turning back into rush hour traffic to see the train. "Do you think," Ben said, between sniffles, "we'll EVER see another train?" Yes, I assured him, I really thought we would.

Of course I knew there would be a baby. The baby was in the middle of
everything, tiny and oblivious. And then afterward, I knew that she was
perfectly healthy and had dark hair, that she was barely older than my
baby, and that her name was Lila Jen.

-------------

But the first time I heard, my own morning sickness started to feel like
stomach flu. "Aren't you crazy?” I asked. “You're nuts!”

I had a major big-girl-crush on Jen. She talked about drugs and sex with me like I was an adult, and wore clothes only if they were comfortable. She came up with quick retorts when strangers commented on how thin she was. I knew her kidneys didn't work right. Once she told me, like it was no big deal, “The doctors said I wouldn't live past twenty-one. They don't know anything!” People thought Jen and I were sisters all the time—same dark eyes, dark hair, dark skin, and she _was_ tiny. Sometimes we'd pretend right along with them. Jen loved my family, especially my dad. (Hers left when she was four, and now she said she wanted a new one.)